Jewish World Review Nov. 20, 2007 / 10 Kislev 5768

My latest pet project

By Malcolm Fleschner

http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | The problem with becoming a pet owner these days is that, as with so many aspects of consumer life, there are just too many options. This was not always the case - in the past, your basic pet alternatives boiled down to either a cat, a dog, or possibly a bird, assuming you could prove special circumstances, such as that you were: a) a magician; b) a pirate; or c) Baretta.

Dogs and cats remain the most popular pets, of course - dogs are still prized in large part for their fierce loyalty. As an illustration of canines' remarkable devotion, every so often you hear the inspiring story of a dog who gets left behind when the family moves away but then miraculously turns up months later at the new home, often having traveled thousands of miles, and proceeds to savagely tear the family members to shreds for abandoning him.

And while cats are often criticized for being entirely selfish creatures, that is not entirely accurate. Why, just take the case of Mittens, a seven-year-old American shorthair who, when her owner's house caught fire, raced inside and, heedless of the flames that threatened to engulf her, valiantly dragged to safety the family's electric can opener.

But ownership of traditional pets usually requires a great deal of effort, including daily feedings, trips to the vet, scooping litter boxes, time-consuming walks, cleaning up whatever the animals have shed, coughed up, spilled, or killed and dropped into the middle of the living room carpet. For prospective pet owners who aren't ready for this level of commitment, a less time-consuming pet like a snake may be preferable.

Bear in mind, however, that while snakes require very little upkeep, the downside is that snake feeding is more - shall we say - visceral, than casually scooping kibble into a bowl. At first, you probably won't mind feeding crickets to the little guy, watching him (or maybe her - who can tell, with a snake) swallow the little critters whole. As the snake grows, however, it will need ever-larger prey, to the point where in a few years' time you face the prospect of wrestling a live, kicking goat into the snake's terrarium.

For a genuinely "low impact" pet, however, I highly recommend the latest addition to our household menagerie: fish. If I had to encapsulate, in one word, the greatest advantage fish offer over other pets, that word would be, "flushability."

Ha ha, just kidding. As far as anyone in my household knows, I have never flushed any of our pets down the toilet. But I'm serious about fish being terrific pets. Up until this point, my only personal experience with pet fish was a single episode during my childhood, when my sister won a goldfish at a local carnival. I think she'd played one of those games where, if you knock down all the bottles, you win a fish. If you only knock down one bottle, you get two fish. It turns out that fish are a pretty cheap prize.

Sadly, my sister's goldfish, Charlie, lasted just one day. Soon after arriving in our home, he developed a terminal case of "Mom Doesn't Want A Fish." Unlike me, Mom did, in fact, flush Charlie down the toilet, but promised us that he was enjoying a much better life frolicking in the nearby Charles River. The truly scary thing is that Mom actually believed this to be the case.

Beyond the simplicity, what's really surprised me about fish care is the mystery surrounding what goes on in the fish tank. Within a week of bringing home our little guppies, tetras and swordtails, almost before our five-year-old daughter had time to name them, individual fish started disappearing. I began to suspect that maybe I had underestimated our fish and, perhaps inspired by the long distance-traveling dogs, had made a break for it, hoping to return to their beloved fish store home. The simplest explanation is often the best, after all.

The guy at the fish store disagreed, and suggested that a more likely explanation was that our vanishing fish had been eaten - and here's the truly chilling part - he said the murderer was probably still swimming around in our tank!

After a bit of detective work involving much observation, quarantining of individual tank residents and the purchase of a guppy whose job was to put the "fish" in "sacrificial lamb," we determined that the likely culprit was our orange swordtail, Johnny. I know, it's always the one you least suspect.

But unlike my mother, who would no doubt have consigned the culprit to a porcelain grave, we showed leniency and returned Johnny to the fish store.

In time, we might even be willing to forgive him, and welcome him back into our home. To prove his dedication, however, he'll have to find his own way.